Unfathomable
by LovelyLivy
Summary: "Sometimes we find someone to share what we have with, even if what we have is nothing at all." T/Z.
1. Chapter 1

**I literally started typing and couldn't stop until this plot was flowing through my fingers. Will be approximately 1-5 chapters, and the rating will go up as it progresses. As I said, I started this at 11:30, and it's half past midnight now. Therefore, any spelling or grammatical mistakes are my own, and any writing/plot critiques are very much appreciated. **

**This is, in short, what my muse thinks should happen with Jimmy's impending wedding in Florida. Meh. Please review. Makes my day. :)**

**Disclaimed. **

**- Alivia**

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><p>The Floridian sunset was gorgeous, the balmy air stroking her pores and seeping into the confines of her soul that weren't to be touched. Rivulets of ocean water dragged lazily down her skin, and her eyes stung from the salt.<p>

Tony had stayed behind a few yards, but she could feel his gaze upon her back. She wished, for however short of a moment, that he had remained at the hotel. Daemons tearing at her flesh couldn't _possibly _be a welcoming sight. For once, Ziva cursed her inability to have emotion laid bare. If she could, she'd be human.

But; a monster was raised a monster, and she had spent one too many afternoons with Ray on this very beach, in this very body of water. The tides are chaotic; foam beat upon the sharpened rocks.

She so terribly wanted to go, but she didn't.

Ziva waited, and he eventually approached her, crouching down to sit with her in the sand.

A seagull cried in the distance. The heat of the waning sun was warm upon her face.

"You want me to be the gay best friend?" he asked, quietly, uncharacteristically. There was still a familiar lilt in his tone that suggested he wouldn't make any sap-worthy love confessions, but as far she could tell he was being serious. She appreciated the effort.

_He didn't owe her anything._

She watched Tony look away, drawing mindless patterns in the fine powder beneath them with his index finger. Finally, she answered him.

"I have never had a best friend, but if I did…" she pauses, and takes a moment to breathe.

"You are my best friend, Tony."

The admittance is abrupt and too intimate when memories of Ray making love to her on this very soil clogs her brain like a bad television channel, but she can't help it. She cannot help looking at him and feeling as though everything is right where it's supposed to be. And oh, if only they could stay like this, in peace, for a few more moments, before reality came crashing like the waves and killing-

"Right back at ya, ninja." He smiles, genuine, scooting closer to her abruptly, throwing an arm around her shoulder. The weight of it is heavy. And yes, it should feel wrong.

But it feels right, and that is the proverbial brick wall, the dilemma, they will always face.

The actual hug is hesitant, unsure. Like they were dipping their toes into cool water, and not allowing it to go any farther.

She caught a glimpse of happiness, and she took it.

It was far too easy to lean her head up in the slightest and brush her lips along his jaw, just so to create a stir, a spark to the flame.

He froze.

She retracted her advances quicker.

Pushing his arm from around her torso, Ziva stood up, glaring into the darkening horizon once more.

"Tony, we have to go. Breena is having a chicken- no, no- a _hen _party, tonight, and Abby insists I go," the words were mechanical, and her hands trembled.

He inhaled deeply, head spinning. "Ziva, we need to talk about-

"No, we do not."

The words are solid, absolute. They will not change if he rewinds five minutes.

Tony swallowed, and gave up. "Okay. Alright. Let's go," he murmurs, resigned.

Their footprints left markings in the sand that lasted until the next morning, because the wind was still and unforgiving, and proved how they'd screwed things beyond reconcile.

* * *

><p>Ziva decided, watching as yet <em>another <em>man grabbed his clothed crotch, that if she ever really had this marriage experience, it would be preferable if this part was left out.

It's not that she is prude, but she simply sees no sense in it. Her cheeks were burning from the alcohol, as well as the light sunburn she had developed across her nose when she and Tony had been to the beach that afternoon. To the left of Abby and Breena, furthest from the stage, Ziva watched as her good friend talked with the soon-to-be-bride.

A part of her felt guilty- being so quiet. It was Breena's night. The blonde was about to have everything she wanted; the rock on her finger, the white picket fence, maybe children, _love. _Ziva's stomach felt hollow, but she shook her head. _No, not tonight. _

Abby had taken care of it, which she was forever grateful for. Just then the zealous Goth turned towards her, nudging her foot with one spiked heel. Curiosity lit Abby's green eyes.

"Ziva, have you gone anywhere with Tony?" she asked, sipping her drink indifferently.

A corner of Ziva's mouth turned up in a half-grimace, and she was almost perturbed the questioning had gone in that direction immediately.

"Yes, we went to the beach earlier," she answered, grudgingly throwing them a little bit of something to gnaw at like wild dogs.

Breena giggled, high pitched and childlike, tossing her blonde hair behind her shoulder with a flick of her wrist. "Romantic walks on the shore, huh? Sounds _romantic._"

Ziva studied her nails.

"I hope you and Tony work it out, Ziva."

Her head snapped up to Breena, and suddenly, too suddenly, she saw the ditzy girl in a new light. It was discombobulating (or maybe that's the alcohol), and it made her head spin like his scent did, like feeling the stubble of his jaw beneath her lips did.

She suddenly found it very hard to breathe. The bar's air was balmy like the beach had been.

She needed to get out of there.

Breena eyes began to crinkle, her lips formed a line. "Ziva, I hadn't meant to overstep, I mean, I just want-

"No, no! That is not- please just," she exhaled raggedly, "please do not feel bad about it. Thank you, Breena."

The almost-newlywed's worry softened, and she regarded Ziva with a smirk.

"I think you guys would have great sex."

She almost wanted to laugh at the sheer honesty of the opinion, the truth that lay there. Yeah, they would probably have great sex. They would probably have a nice wedding too, and nice children, and a quaint, little life as well. They just had to get their stuff together first. Work it out.

There were rings on the bar from where the trio's shot glasses have sat.

Ziva counted four distinguished circles near her end. _Huh._

Still, she chortled at the comment. "I guess so, Breena."

* * *

><p>Apparently, their endeavors at the bar had just been a <em>warm up. <em>They took a cab to the hotel they were staying at, and Abby kept mumbling something about 'tights' and 'heels' and how 'she must have horrible arches from wearing those flat footed shoes constantly'.

Ziva wanted another drink.

One second, she sat on the bed of Abby's room, and watched as the Breena primped and fussed over Abby and herself. The next, she was a tornado, being thrown which way, into a bathroom. A dress shoved into her hands.

She fingered the fabric, felt of the tag. It was her size.

The expensive-feeling material was the color of a fresh violet, and Abby continued to repeat 'It will look so good, so, so good,' through the door.

She tried it on. It fit.

* * *

><p>The bass of the club was thick and heady as it pulsed through her.<p>

A mass of bodies swarmed on the floor, and all she could smell was sex and sweat.

Breena's friends were waiting with a booth, and they were so identical to the blonde Ziva thought that maybe she had been pulled through one of those unrealistic time warps (like the ones in Tony's movies). They were all so chatty, so animated. Abby clutched her arm, and she was useless.

If this was what it felt like to be human, it must be a rather twisted experience.

"There they are! Tim!" Abby shouted in her ear. She could still barely hear her over the music.

Ziva glanced to where Abby was pointing and waving, and then, that is the moment she saw it.

It was McGee, yes. And Tony. And suddenly, Ziva felt like she had been played, tricked, by a woman who liked puppies and listened to music too loud.

And she wanted to run, and she couldn't. She tugged her arm from Abby's, and it fell limply to her side.

She felt self-conscious in the dress, she then realized. He looked like himself. Like Tony.

He doesn't hesitate to walk towards her confidently, that sure fire DiNozzo, and he doesn't hesitate to grasp her waist. She refused to step back, to flinch. She would not cower in a corner, even though every defense mechanism she had carefully constructed suggested she flee and not look back.

"Didn't think I'd see you again today," he whispered huskily in her ear, and she could smell the booze on his breath. She didn't answer him. What could she say?

She felt his hand slide up the curve of her spine, and although she could barely hear, she could _feel _her heart go _thumpathumpathump _beneath her breast. He leaned down to say something to her again.

"I bet ever guy in here wants to take you home." She detected a hint of, what was that, _jealousy, _in his tone. Something to suggest to her that this was not a plan. This, seeing her like this, was not a step in the agreement.

She had to lean up to speak to him properly, and she felt him shiver when her lips brushed his earlobe, even just. "Why would that matter to you, Tony?" she murmured, coquettish.

His light hand at her spine traveled down to her hip in one sharp move, and he pulled her towards him. Hips on hips. Lips mere inches from perfection personified.

Abby, McGee, Breena, the girls; were gone from her mind. Maybe his too.

"Ziva, _I want you."_


	2. Chapter 2

_So. *waves awkwardly* I guess I abandoned this story for a long time. Apologies. Erm. I highly suggest you brush up on the first chapter- I know this story had a ton of story alerts, so I went ahead and added another chapter. I plan on adding one more- the last one- soon. If anyone is still interested, I'd love feedback. THANK YOU GUYS FOR ALL THE REVIEWS SO FAR. *hugs everyone*- Alivia_

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><p>In the time it took her to respond, he was already kissing her.<p>

And it was the _best _kind of kissing. With teeth, and tongue, and no decency, and no consciousness, and no thought to the surroundings, the situation.

Her arms, once numbly situated at her side, snaked up to grasp his hair in her shaky fingers.

The club moved around them. The sensation of it made her feel lightheaded, and sick.

His tongue still moved inside her mouth, reckless and insatiable. She swore he was swallowing her whole, and by the time the girls realized she was gone, there would be nothing _left. _

That is when she finally responded.

A snap, a knife in the gut, a bullet to the skull.

She pulled herself from him, bumping clumsily into another grinding form. The girl glared at her, and Ziva studied the girl's lipstick as a temporary distraction. It was the color of a cherry pop. "_Watch it."_

Her eyes were bloodshot, and she tasted Tony even though he was standing two feet from her.

The music was beginning to make her head hurt. His expression was one of startle, and maybe, if she studied hard enough, there was some fear pressed around his forehead. Shakily, she reached a hand up to wipe her mouth, gazes still searing. She was careful to watch out for the dancing individuals around them- still pacing, mashing themselves to the bass.

Tony looked rather ridiculous- hair mussed from her digging fingers, eyes wild.

When she finally moved, to run away, to run back to safety, it felt like her limbs were crushed beneath tons of cement.

It was harder than she'd expected- not looking back at his lanky form, struck put on the dance floor, a club in Miami filled with animals around them, so close to utopia, but so, so far away.

It was almost as hard as shooting her brother in the head- but she doesn't think that.

She never thinks anything could hurt as much as that.

**oOo**

"Ziva, where have you been?" Abby demands, voice obviously hoarse.

The Goth's fingers are sharp on her shoulder, and she does well not to flinch away from the vice grip. She leans in to whisper in her ear, to appease the strain of such a public embarrassment. Although it seems no one noticed Tony pull her aside and ravish her on the floor- her cheeks still burn, whether it be from the alcohol or the adrenaline pumping through her veins. She feels high.

"I need to get back to the hotel," Ziva says, and hates herself for it.

Breena deserves a better bridesmaid. The thought isn't one of self pity. More so of anger at her; for jutting out so primal, just to merely lick the edges of temptation. Selfish, the notion is, at a time like this.

Something in Abby's face shifts in recognition. It draws out her sheepishness further- because at this point, _does everyone know she and Tony are within two devastating feet of fucking like cats in heat? _Slowly, she lets Ziva's arm go, nodding quietly. So much more toned down than her usually squealing self.

"You'll have to take a cab, Ziva," Abby says sharply, and it drives guilt to her- because it's quite apparent her friend doesn't want to leave the party, and God, how could she have-

Then, his voice, deep and resolute, is next to her ear. "I'll go with her, Abs."

Ziva bites her tongue, and draws blood. It's a pity really- that the dress couldn't have been shown off a bit more. As pretty as it is tight around her, suffocating. She's never been this claustrophobic.

Abby smiles, but it's worn. "Go, Ziva. Breena and Jimmy will understand. Don't worry." She casts a glance at Tony, still tall by her side, deterring the conversation. "I can tell you're not feeling well."

**OoO**

They ride back is utterly silent, and although they're sitting inches apart, she still feels the electricity flickering between they're thighs- hers smooth, bare, his covered by his cargo pants. It's dying-

In the slowest way possible.

**OoO**

The elevator is a cage.

"Why did you kiss me?" she inquires, tone phasing no malice. She has none left in her, when she finally lets herself breathe, everything absorbing the aftershocks that leave her comfortably separate.

He bristles, edge of his mouth twitching a bit. "As I recall, you kissed _me._"

They stare straight ahead.

Ziva clears her throat. A bright ding resonates.

"Yes, well," she murmurs, stepping off, stride short, unsure, "We're both drunk."

**OoO**

She knows she's still intoxicated, because Tony doesn't go back to his own hotel room, some six floors away, and she doesn't protest to him waltzing in behind her when she takes a keycard to her own. The linen smells fresh, and she is quick to escape to the bathroom.

When she comes out, he's sitting on the bed, eyes downcast. Air is cool on her damp cheeks- she'd doused them with water from the sink to alert herself as much as possible.

Almost like a soldier tacking on heavy duty armor.

_What a lovely way to end, _she muses.

The bed creaks softly when she sits next to him, further enough away for appearances, systematically allowing her lithe hands to bends down to remove the straps of the heels.

"At the beach," she begins.

When she doesn't say anything else, he answers the sentence.

"You kissed me," Tony assures her, a mocking lilt to him. She feigns laughter, but it falls flat.

"Tony, I cannot believe," she breaks off, gasping a little. She had not expected this to be this hard.

She begins again- and it feels like the thousandth time.

"Tony, why now? We have been partners for over half a decade," Ziva states. He leans back against the pillow. His hair is still ruffled from the kiss, and she still tastes him in her mouth.

"Why not?"

It takes her far longer than it should to answer. "Because." She sighs, and she feels so much older than herself. "Because you are my best friend, and this will change things."

Her words are a ghost of the ones she'd said on the beach, yet they still do funny things to him. Unnerving.

Something dangerous muddles his green eyes. "Why does it? Sorry, too vague- why does it have to effect things?"

Ziva fixes him with a reproachful look, pretty lips drooping into an unfixed pout.

"Tony, surely you realize by now that one night stands are not ethical- God, there is a reason Gibbs invented rules-

"Why are you bringing Gibbs into this, Ziva? Don't bring him into it! You want to end up like him? He's alone, Ziva. You won't be _alone," _he bites out.

She shivers, and she doesn't know why. She curses under her breath in her mother tongue.

Tony leans forward slightly, hand reaching out to grasp her arm. She burns away from it like she's been burned, and she swears pain darkens his eyes for all of two seconds before it passes.

"All I'm proposing," Her heart shrivels at the words, "is a few hours. Not even a night. I know you hate clichés- hey, I do _too. _Paris was for Gibbs and Jen, so let's," she splutters, but he continues, unfazed. "Ziva, let's have a few hours in a pricey hotel, and figure it out later. Screw everything."

The words are slurred just-she knows she's still drunk, and he is too- and her head hurts- but his hand crawls up her back to her zipper, and she thinks no more.

He sighs into her mouth, breath mingling sweetly with her own, and she realizes she doesn't care.

**OoO**

When she awakens, the sun is tingling across her cheek, and the bed is empty.

Naked.

She's naked.

Dizzily, she falls back to the pillow, head splitting in half at the mere notion of movement.

Ziva knows it's early- she has never awoken after eight in her life- so she knows she has not missed the wedding. Phantom quivers mold her limbs.

She's sore, in the best way possible.

And Tony is gone, which presents an unsettling sensation unfurling terribly in the pit of her stomach, and suddenly she feels like she can't breathe- even in this room full of empty air- even without the suffocating dress, which she spots lying limp on the floor, forgotten.

She can't help it-

She feels like she can relate to the tossed article of clothing. Ever growing is the sensation that Tony has tossed her aside, much like the fabric.

Ziva barely makes it to the bathroom before she empties the contents of her stomach, and even after she's washed her mouth the burn of acid still coats her throat.

**OoO**

There are eight missed calls from Abby, and three texts.

The first:

_Ziva, I just wanted to call to make sure you'd gotten in safely. Creeps are out this time of night- but that's silly, isn't it, because you're kick ass ninja skills would defeat their Jedi mind tricks but-_

She skips to the last:

_Ziva, it's Abby. You never called me back last night, but Tony called. He told me you passed out- wasn't sure if I should believe him. Uhm, I guess I'll see you for the appointment with the hairdresser at eleven? Call me back when you get this message. _

She calls Abby back, and throws on a pair of sunglasses so dark no one can see her eyes.

When she leaves the room, the bed is a haphazard mess, but she takes blind comfort in knowing when she returns it will be as clean as if nothing ever happened.

Tali had once said drunk people do stupid things.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello, hello. So, here is an update on this fic. Obviously, I've been rather busy. Change of plans; there will be four chapters. Yay! Reviews are my spirit food, and you all don't understand how just one of those suckers can brighten up my dismal day. Disclaimed! -Alivia**

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><p>McGee keeps throwing him looks; he dodges them expertly, fiddling with his bow tie, his cuffs, anything else.<p>

Palmer is circling the small room like a nervous cat. Sweat beads at the younger man's forehead; for a moment, Tony pities him. Discreetly, still avoiding McGee, he slouches off to a corner and checks his phone for the umpteenth time. No missed calls. No texts.

Nothing.

Which, he really, really hadn't expected anything more.

But maybe he had. Maybe he thought Ziva would try. Maybe he didn't know why he did at all.

Palmer sighs loud enough to make the other three men look up. Jimmy's brother- Fred, Jed, something- rushes forward to offer gauging reassurances. "Jimmy everything is going to be _great!" _he stresses.

Tim smiles, wielding a "She'll be beautiful, Jimmy."

All he can do is stand on shaky legs, and smile stiffly.

He won't let his mind go to that place. The one where instead of Jimmy and Breena it's actually him and Ziva. The one where the preacher asks him 'Til death do you part?'and he says 'I do'.

This really is not the place.

He won't let himself, so instead-

"Jimmy, this is the best day of your life. Enjoy it."

oOo

In the perfect world, the moment he sees her she smiles, and everything goes alright.

The world is not perfect. He is not perfect.

But she- in his mind- is.

And the moment he sees her, he notices the drawn look on her face- skin deep, maybe further. It's that silent kind of resilience that has always defined Ziva- instilled from birth by Eli David and monsters and pain.

It's the façade.

Her imperfections make her perfect. But in that moment, all he can do is clear his throat, look away, and allow Abby to distract him by straightening his bowtie.

"I will go assist Breena," she murmurs to Abby, and is gone in the next instant.

oOo

Later, much later, she decides that the harrowing madness all started far earlier than the night before.

She clasps another earring tight in her ear, and thinks of Jenny. It's a humbling place for her thoughts to stray, albeit a strange one.

Years, hours, days before:

_Cairo. Sweltering heat. _

_She is still too young, too green, but she sees Jennifer Shepard and her lovely, postulate demeanor, and pretends she is the most seasoned Mossad operative in the organization._

_That night, at the worn NCIS safe house, Jenny corners her. "You shouldn't be like that," she says to her vaguely. _

_Ziva has a knife on her before either can blink._

"_Do not test me," she can't help but warn, ominous. Like a cat puffing up to a large dog._

_Jenny, risk-taking Jenny, reaches a hand out to stroke her arm. "I don't mean you harm."_

_For a moment, Ziva's eyes widen. "I was not aware you were-_

"_I'm not," Jenny laughs, mossy orbs shining in the dull light. "I'm, erm…flexible." The older woman looked uncomfortable suddenly, gauging. "I guess I'm just trying to heal."_

_Ziva nods once, and Jenny releases her. She steps back. _

"_I just thought you should know that this operation can be a pleasant two months, if you let it be," she relents._

_And with that, she left Ziva, wave of cherry shampoo wafting by. _

_It was the start of an unbalanced friendship._

_Weeks, days, hours._

_A poker game. Testing waters of interesting topics, familiarity. Intimacy._

"_Jen," she inquired, laying down a two pair. "Your partner, why-" she breaks off, glancing at the half empty bottle of bourbon. "Maybe I am wrong. Never m-_

"_No, Ziva. You want to know why we aren't partners anymore?"_

_Ziva carefully does not give her much eye contact. "Yes," she answers, finally._

_Jenny pops off the cap to the amber liquid, and takes a gallant swallow. "Because he wanted marriage. And I….didn't."_

"_Oh," Ziva mutters. She studies her cards; she has nothing. _

"_Oh," Jenny agrees, a little sarcastically. _

OoO

Days, months, years later, Ziva decides the hatred for weddings began the moment Tali's cherished doll required a wedding dress, and she came home one day to find _her own favorite dress _in scrap pieces.

"It was for happiness," Ima tells her.

"It was for selfishness," she smarts, and her mother smacks her cheek for the sass.

OoO

"You look beautiful, Ziva," Breena gushes, one mass of sensitized energy and squeals.

"No," Ziva smiles. "Breena, you are beautiful. Congratulations." And this time, the smile isn't all fake.

OoO

The organ is loud, too loud, and nearly everyone in the room with a raging headache due to previous night shenanigans flinches back at the sound. Ziva watches Breena's father take the girl's arm. There is an exchange of glances between the two. A parting, "You ready, Daddy?"

It makes Ziva's stomach feel far too hollow.

OoO

Gibbs sits near the back, as does Ducky. The medical examiner gives her a beaming grin of acknowledgment, and Gibbs smiles a bit, too.

In the recesses of her mind, she thinks that Gibbs must know weddings and all they entail a little too well by now.

And then she feels him, feels his gaze glued to her, her alone, and cannot help where her attention wanders too. Tony; in an immaculate tuxedo, a dumbstruck expression planted firmly upon his face.

For seconds, she can pretend.

Too soon, she is pushed to the side, the moment charred like the remnants of burnt wood.

"We are gathered here today…"

OoO

The thought crosses both their minds, eventually, that they would prefer a contemporary ceremony as opposed to the drone of recited scripture. They both would far rather write their own vows.

Or, hell; elope.

OoO

"You may now kiss the bride."

"_Tony, do not stop kissing me."_

OoO

They are herded into seats for the reception. The chapel was part of a much larger religious establishment, and the auditorium is too cold for the backless, strapless dress she wears. She shivers minutely. Tony notices.

Because, of course, of all the places the pretty, pristine placement card with the elegant _Tony DiNozzo _scrawled across it had to be, it would be next to her. Gibbs sits across from them, mumbling a gruff greeting. Abby is down the lot, as well as McGee, and Ducky.

"You need to borrow my jacket?" Tony offers.

She grimaces, and takes a sip of the water already on the table. "No, thank you."

They do not talk for the rest of their meal. Neither notes that Gibbs takes note.

OoO

"…and so, I just would like to wish the best of luck to their marriage. They are both fantastic individuals, and I know they deserve of life of happiness together," McGee finishes proudly.

The clapping begins, and ceases. The microphone lands firmly in his hands. "You're up, Tony," Tim murmurs.

_Oh, he knows. He knows. _

OoO

"Firstly, I would just like to point out, that out of everyone in this room who ever thought there would be a Mrs. Autopsy Gremlin, I was not one of them." A chorus of laughter.

"Obviously, I was wrong. Don't make me repeat it. You know how I hate admitting my flaws," Tony laughed a little, eyes sobering some. "Listen, everyone," he addressed the room, "Breena, Jimmy- I've never been married. Don't have a lot of relationship advice for you there. However, I do know what love looks like." He cleared his throat. "And you two, well…you've got it."

Looking down, gathering his thought, "It's not the big things that make it obvious. Not the romantic dinners, or the gifts, or hey, even this nice wedding. The little things, guys. Like the way you can finish one another's sentences, and the way you have jokes no one else understands. Jimmy, the statistics are there, you geek. We meet thousands, millions of people ever day, on the street, and yet one day you find someone who you just can't shake. You don't want to. From that day forward, your smile, your outlook, your goals, differ. Breena, you've changed him. For the better."

He laughed suddenly, breaking the quiet. "I'm not saying it will be perfect. They'll probably be nitpicking arguments about who forgot to unload the dishwasher, but the point is- you're trying, and the best things in life aren't always easy."

Tony tried not to- he really did- but he looked at her. And then he couldn't stop looking at her. "Your love is something you'd do anything for. Deal with livid father-in-laws, break rules."

And then he stopped, caught his breath, and smiled. Ziva's heart was in her throat.

"Cherish each other. Because, in the end, that's all you've got."

Abby cooed, and sliced the moment with a machete. "So," he continued, "I'd like to propose a toast. To Jimmy, and Breena, and their life together. Congrats, guys. Now, go make babies."

Out of the corner of his eye, Tony saw Breena's dad toss back his whole glass of champagne.

He sat back down next to Ziva, none the wiser to the predicament she was in internally.

OoO

When the dancing commenced, Abby beckoned Gibbs over, and flung both he and Ziva out onto the floor. "Come on! This will make adorable pictures!"

Gibbs cedes, reluctantly. "Fine, Abs. One dance."

Gibbs was obviously an experienced dancer, and took her grip easily. They spun around a few times before he spoke.

"You breaking rules, David?"

When she almost choked upon her own saliva in surprise, she decided it had been far too long since she had worked in espionage. "No," she said vehemently, all the while feeling like a spoiled child with her hand caught in the proverbial cookie jar. _How could he possibly…_

He remained quiet for a few turns around the floor; she ran out of patience.

"You should be well aware of the importance I place in rules, Gibbs. To break them would be petulant, and foolish-

"You ever think I was wrong, Ziva?"

She went quiet, again, utterly confused. He continued, slowly.

"About twelve. Fifty-one; sometimes you're wrong. I was, Ziva."

She felt like she was going to retch. Her stomach rolled, and all she wished was to stop spinning. The music ran on.

"Why do you say this?" Ziva demanded. Gibbs sighed, cerulean gaze darting away.

"Because you and Jenny are two different people," he murmured. "Because even though Jenny may have cared for me, she never-

"She did, Gibbs. Jenny did love you," Ziva said harshly, passionate.

Gibbs looked pained, if only for a withering glance. Then, the expression was gone.

"That's old news, Ziva. You and DiNozzo aren't."

Pulse a bass in her ears- the reverence of the music was fading.

"Keep it out of the office. That's all I'm saying."

And with that, he let go, striding off in the general direction of the open bar. She thought she might join him. She would kill for a drink.


End file.
